


Leave the Light On

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5239169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they're captured, it looks like hope will be lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave the Light On

**Author's Note:**

> Received a tumblr request for "Could you write a drabble based on it? Something like: a red guard catches them doing naughty things in the alley so they get arrested. And of course they try everything to save one another." 
> 
> I couldn't write the specific prompt (if portamis were caught actually doing something together they would, historically, have been killed), so I went with just the general "they're captured and want to protect each other" prompt.

The basement they’ve been taken to is dark and dank and there’s a distinctly unpleasant dripping sound coming from far into the darkness they’re around. There’s one pinpoint of light filtering in from the ceiling beams above them. Neither of them can know what time it is, but Aramis’ guess would be that it’s mid-day by now. They’ve been captured for the better part of two days by Aramis’ guess, if he can measure the movement of time through the gnawing in his stomach, the gurgle of hunger. Pain lances at his side, where he took the edge of a blade shoving Porthos from harm.

Porthos, for his part, is very still – back pressed to the wall, surveying the darkness as if it will reveal some kind of escape. Aramis paces around, his shackles at his wrists allowing him more movement than Porthos, who is tethered closer to the wall, the chains behind his back. He watches Aramis as he paces, occasionally throws himself at the door in a vain attempt at testing its weight.

“You’ll break your shoulder at this rate,” Porthos tells him, and his voice is rasped and dragging from lack of water and food. He looks ashen as Aramis turns and approaches him, kneels down with some effort and tries to reach for him. The chains are cruel – leaving them only a few moments apart, when if only Aramis could stretch a little further, he could rest his hands upon him.

Instead he leans forward, shakily, and Porthos droops forward to meet him. Their foreheads press together. 

“I’ll save you,” Aramis vows, because he can handle so many things but he cannot handle the idea of losing Porthos. He can die, happily he could die, if it meant that Porthos would be safe. He has lost so many, too many, far too many than he’d ever wish to lose – but Porthos, no. He cannot fathom it.

Porthos’ eyes are soft, bleary, as he looks at him. “We’ll both be saved,” he says, quiet, and his breath ghosts over Aramis’ mouth and he’d do so many things to break that distance and kiss him. He closes his eyes, tilts his head, presses in close and kisses Porthos as best he can even when straining against the distance, wanting nothing more than to press his hands to Porthos, check the injuries there – a tweaked knee, a bruise blooming over his face. He will kill all who dared to hurt Porthos, who dared to take him away from Aramis. 

Aramis draws back, just enough, to look at him – and Porthos offers him a small, contemplative smile. He’s settled on something, and suddenly Aramis’ heart thuds down low in his stomach. It twists up. 

Footsteps are approaching – Aramis can hear it.

“I love you, you know,” Porthos tells him, strangely calm – and he’s seen Porthos so angry, only a day ago, spitting anger, cursing and thrashing, trying to break free from the metal chains. 

Aramis can’t respond before the door opens behind him. He turns, debates throwing himself at the men, twisting the chains around their necks and choking the life from them before they can get to Porthos. It would be something Porthos would do, to protect him. He’s done it once before. He’s already rising to his feet to do so now, too.

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know,” Porthos says, calmly, and Aramis startles, turns towards him, mouth open in protest. There is nothing to say – they know nothing, and Porthos would sooner die before give away the secrets. He recognizes it for what it is, even before Porthos adds, calm as always, “He knows nothing. Cut him loose.”

Their captors had offered them the deal when they were first captured – and they’d both refused. Now, Porthos speaks the words and doesn’t look at Aramis – and Aramis knows them for what they are: not betrayal, but protection. It is something that Aramis himself would do, if given the chance, for Porthos. And now he’s beaten him to it.

“Porthos, no—” Aramis protests, struggles, fights back against the hands closing around his shoulders.

“I’ll tell you everything as soon as I know he’s safe.”

Porthos rises to his feet, unsteady – too injured, too hungry, too hurt, no no please let him help him, please don’t take him away, please don’t separate him—

Porthos watches him even as Aramis is dragged from the room, reaching for him in a muffled, angry shout – angry at so much, never angry at Porthos, but his heart twisted up hard in his throat. 

Porthos smiles at him before the door shuts and blocks him from view.


End file.
